A Small Surprise
by insanityintheflesh
Summary: Sherlock is walking home when he realizes that someone is following behind him. And it's not what he expected. Johnlock and Mystrade mentioned.


Sometimes John would be too busy at his work to join Sherlock to Lestrade's office. Even though John wasn't needed to hear Lestrade say he was right and the case was solved thanks to him, Sherlock wished he was there to walk back with him. He disliked taking cabs at night since recently, every time he did, it would be Mycroft attempting to kidnap him and make him do horrible things like have conversations and give a report on how Lestrade was that day. Mycroft knew his boyfriend would be there at the house later on that night, surely he could get that information without Sherlock's help. His rather long walk was better than being crowded in the back seat with Mycroft. He could deduce every person he walked by and that thrilled him. Sharing the deductions with John were more entertaining though, but John would always listen to his new discoveries once he arrived home. Sherlock walked his favored route back to the loft, arriving to the alley which meant he was ten minutes away. As he walked with a slow pace, he could hear movement behind him, coming toward the lanky detective.

_Light patters onto the cement. Not a child, no slight intakes of breath. Clink, not a trained assassin, steps are too carefree to bump into a abandoned can. Turned right at the exact time I did. To my left is a rusty and weakened, but unused pipe; can be removed in seven seconds. Block gun by swinging downward, then swing up to hit right in the chin. Dizziness will occur to attacker for three to five seconds, use time to remove gun from hand and point to the left leg, which they are favoring, causing a louder echo when walking. Quicken speed by an extra step, keep unsuspicious form. Reach for pipe in three...two...one._

Sherlock reached for the pipe and turned, ready to fight the anonymous follower, but was met with no human in sight. _There was no noise to connect with a jump or walking away, nor of stopping. _His thoughts were still racing for an answer when he heard a low meow. Below him was blonde, fluffy cat with dark blue eyes sitting in front of his feet, staring up at him with interest. Sherlock sighed and pinched his nose, of course it was a cat. He was in a bloody alley, no ninjas would be there. Obviously. He threw the pipe away and glared at the cat for making him waste such pathetic thoughts on it. The cat took that as a good response and purred, rubbing against Sherlock's legs. In an instant, Sherlock moved away from the cat and continued to walk to his loft, knowing the cat would return back to its' alley.

The cat decided to go against the consulting detective's logic and continued to follow him for ten minutes and that's when Sherlock about lost it. He took every turn he could and quickened his pace, making him seven minutes off schedule, but the cat would not stop. Sherlock ran the next three blocks, taking sharp turns. He stopped when he reached part of the route where he was supposed to be earlier and smirked as he turned to see the cat was no longer behind him. Victorious at last, he turned back around to continue home. For once in his life, something happened that he did not expect; the cat took a short cut and waited on a fence and as Sherlock walked by, jumped onto his back. Sherlock gasped in shock as he felt the claws dig into his coat. He grabbed the cat and brought it eye level, hoping his glare would frighten the feline. Instead, the cat licked his nose and, in panic of the said holder, was dropped. His frown deepened as the cat continued to follow him down the path. He stopped walking and turned.

"STOP, JUST STOP IT. Your limp has obviously worsened during the walk! Now you are far away from the rest of the pack, but they don't really like you since your limp has made you useless. It's obvious from the claw marks on your head and left side from the attacking as you would try to drink some water and eat. You're following me 'cause you are hoping I'll help? I cannot, we barely have money to help ourselves and my experiments. Go find other cats to live with, there was one two blocks behind us!"

It seemed his screaming had worked, for the cat turned around and left the alley they occupied. Sherlock sighed in relief and jammed his hands back into his coat pockets. He was twenty minutes late now and he knew he only had thirteen minutes before John would be back. Never was he late to greet his boyfriend as John arrived home. Oh did he have stories for John tonight, more than just the usual deductions. The walk went by fast and he was only two minutes away, five minutes before John would be home. A smile crept on his face as his partner's face popped into his head.

Birds flew in every direction as a yell echoed in the streets.

* * *

John was not expecting to be home before Sherlock. He did not expect to hear a doorbell and open the door for Sherlock. What John really didn't expect was to see the adorable frown and twitching eyebrows of Sherlocks' with a kitten on his shoulder.

"I don't want to talk about it. Just get this uncooperative, vicious creature of my shoulder before I throw it off of me. Again," Sherlock said, storming into the loft.

Stifling a laugh at scene in front of him, he gently grabbed the kitten, giving Sherlock a quick kiss on the cheek in the process, and held it in his arms. He scratched the top of its' head and received an immediate response of purrs from the ball of fur. He walked into the living room and sat on his favorite chair, continuing to pet the tiny creature. He looked up to see a sulking, coat-less Sherlock as he dropped on the couch into the fetal position. When he made eye contact with the kitten, his sulking turned into a glare. That's when John burst out laughing and the glare was directed at him.

"I'm sorry," John grinned, "but this is just too funny. Would you like to explain your whole day? I'm all ears. I'd love to learn how this 'uncooperative, vicious creature' ended up here for the night."

Sherlock was not happy with John's last sentence, but he listed off his schedule of the day. He gave every little detail and explained every deduction he made of each person he passed, which was met with all of John's compliments. Then, he finally reached the most dreadful part of the story, though he did not include that he deduced wrong, because he _never_ deduced anything wrong. As the story went on, John's failed attempts at hiding his laugh were getting louder. They eventually reached the part where Sherlock was two minutes away from home. "The cat tricked me and jumped on my back from another random fence. Why do people even make fences, there are unneeded and do no justice. I pulled it off me and ran, but it kept following me! I tried every exit route and back street I could, but it continue to follow after me, even with that limp. Ten minutes after running, I finally lost it and I was a block away from the loft. I was two bloody steps away from the door when that _thing _climbed up my coat and onto my shoulder. I tried to pull it off for the third time, but its' claws were deep into my coat. And here we are now."

The room was silent for a couple moments, before John began to crack up. Sherlock was not thrilled by this and crossed his arms. After a minute or so later, John calmed down and wiped away tears from laughing so hard. He smiled and walked over to the pouting man, pressing a short kiss onto the other's lips. Sherlock smiled in the kiss and reached for another one, but there was nothing to reach for. He opened his eyes to see John walking away to the kitchen, holding that terrible feline. Now it was stealing John, _his _John.

He yelled to the direction of the kitchen, "Can't we just throw it out? It has no use to us and it's caused me pain, John. Pain!"

There was no response, but the opening and closing of the fridge. Sherlock groaned as he heard milk being poured. It would obviously be for that evil thing. Never was Sherlock allowed to waste the milk, but John was wasting it on a pathetic animal? The day was overall terrible for Sherlock, he was not expecting the night to go like this. Why did he have to promise he wouldn't play the violin after eleven o'clock for a week on this week of all times? John eventually walked back into the room, holding a box which held a rag for the kitten to sleep on, a bowl of milk, and the criminal inside. He sat back into his chair, placing the box down with a smile. _No._

"Don't you dare think that."

A puzzled look was thrown in his direction as he received the response, "What in the world are you talking about, Sherlock?"

"We will not keep that thing in this loft."

"That _thing,_ is a girl cat and yes we are. She needs work on her leg-"

"No, John! I will not allow it. I'll make Mrs. Hudson throw it out."

"Mrs. Hudson has two ferrets, she doesn't give a rat's ass about if animals are in the house. She's staying."

"I live here and I say no. I do not want it, therefore it will not stay. It will be running around our room and plus she might ruin my experime-"

"Then I can go back to sleeping upstairs," John said as he picked her back up and placed her on his lap, "Your choice Sherlock, but no matter your decision, she's staying."

Sherlock resumed his mixture of a pout and glare as him and John kept eye contact, neither breaking it. He did not want her running around (my God, he couldn't believe he was addressing _it_ as a female) the loft, _but _he didn't want John to leave their room. He glanced down at the kitten. She returned the stare as she cocked her head to the side. It wasn't…so bad, he supposed. She did seem innocent. Plus, he could always just throw her in the bathroom or John's old room while his doctor was away from home. She did have dark blue eyes, similar to John. Actually, the cat and John were very similar, he realized. The limp of the leg (though Johns' disappeared eighteen days after Sherlock returned) plus the blonde, fluffy hair. Both followed him no matter what and those eyes. He loved John, so maybe he could force himself to like this kitten. How would he be reminded of the similarities nonstop though? He sighed. John was content with the kitten, and it was staying. No matter what.

"Fine, I agree to keep this animal since you are so fancied by her. There is one condition though if you wish for her to stay that bad."

"Alright, Sherlock. What's the condition?"

"I get to name the kitten."

"Um, okay. What do you wish to name it then?" John raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side in the process.

Sherlock smirked.

"Joan."

x

Thanks for reading (:


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